hearing it? I felt around and inside both ears but nothing was in either. "How am I hearing this? How does this work?"
Gus announced authoritatively, "Linear matrix tubing."
"Say what?"
"Linear matrix tubing. There's a deliberated fiber-optic conduit bleached through an open-end ekistics feed--"
"Forget it! Susan, where are you? We gotta talk right now."
"At the cafe, Frannie. Don't you remember? You and Gus said you wanted to go--"
"Yeah yeah, forget it. You and I gotta talk _immediately."_
She was silent too long and then sighed like a martyr giving up the ghost. "I hope you're not going to complain about this trip again. I really don't want to hear another rant--"
"I ain't going to rant, Susan, and what I've got to say is not about the trip. I just gotta ask some things." I could hear my voice going weird and desperate. If it went any higher, pretty soon I would sound like a teakettle whistling.
"We're at the cafe. But you know that."
"No, Suze, I don't know that. I didn't even know where I was until about five minutes ago, but I won't dwell on that one.
What cafe?"
"The Sperl."
"The Squirrel? You're at a cafe called the Squirrel?"
_"Sperl, _Frannie, Sperl. Turn your hearing aid up, dear."
"All right, I'll find it. What do you look like now?"
She chuckled in her trademark way. I'd heard it often enough at our weekly meetings when we discussed the goings-on in Crane's View.
"What do I look like now? Well, like I did this morning, in case you forget.
Byyyye!"
Gus Gould thought that was _the _funniest thing and again his annoying heehaw laugh broke out of the corral. I'd forgotten he could hear both sides of our conversation. "I'll point her out to you, Fran."
Page 59
"Yeah, great, thanks. Where is this Cafe Sperl, Squirrel, whatever?"
"Right near our hotel." Gus gestured for us to follow him and strode away.
I looked at the kid. "Our hotel? What hotel? I have no idea what the hell is going on here. What's wrong with this picture?" I started walking.
"It didn't have to be like this. It's your fault! If you hadn't been so stupid and hit Astopel--"
"Change the channel willya, sonny? You already said that nineteen times. If you're expecting an apology you're not getting it. Anyway, you still haven't said what _you're _doing here."
"I don't know. One moment I'm living my own life, minding my own fucking business, then _whoomp, _I'm in yours, and now I'm here."
"I don't believe this. Plus if we're so far in the future, how come things don't look different?"
Which was true. If I was now somewhere between seventy and eighty years old, at least three decades had passed. But from what little I'd seen of the surroundings, the world hadn't changed much. Stores were stores and cars rolled by on streets, not in the air a la _Back to the Future.
_Most of them looked sleeker and more aerodynamic, but they were still cars.
Junior interrupted my thoughts. "It was the same for me. When 1 got to your time I thought what's so different? Same kind of clothes, a TV's still a TV--"
"Who sent you up to my time?"
He shot me a quick, sneaky glance and looked away real fast. Then he started walking away at a frightfully _brisk _pace. The little fucker was trying to make a fast getaway. Hobbling after him, I managed to catch up and touched his shoulder. He shook me off.
"Astopel! It was Astopel, wasn't it?" I must have said the magic word because he moved away so fast that if he had been a car his tires would have laid down a patch of rubber thirty feet long.
Watching him and Gus Gould go, the truth suddenly dawned on me. "Because you hit him too!
You hit Astopel too, _didn't you?"_
The boy didn't answer, but I knew I'd hit the bull's-eye. _That's _why the boy had been so worried about how I'd react to the black guy when I first met him. And that's why he'd started hollering when I knocked Astopel down.
Because he knew what was going to happen! Because he'd done _exactly the same thing _and
Gus announced authoritatively, "Linear matrix tubing."
"Say what?"
"Linear matrix tubing. There's a deliberated fiber-optic conduit bleached through an open-end ekistics feed--"
"Forget it! Susan, where are you? We gotta talk right now."
"At the cafe, Frannie. Don't you remember? You and Gus said you wanted to go--"
"Yeah yeah, forget it. You and I gotta talk _immediately."_
She was silent too long and then sighed like a martyr giving up the ghost. "I hope you're not going to complain about this trip again. I really don't want to hear another rant--"
"I ain't going to rant, Susan, and what I've got to say is not about the trip. I just gotta ask some things." I could hear my voice going weird and desperate. If it went any higher, pretty soon I would sound like a teakettle whistling.
"We're at the cafe. But you know that."
"No, Suze, I don't know that. I didn't even know where I was until about five minutes ago, but I won't dwell on that one.
What cafe?"
"The Sperl."
"The Squirrel? You're at a cafe called the Squirrel?"
_"Sperl, _Frannie, Sperl. Turn your hearing aid up, dear."
"All right, I'll find it. What do you look like now?"
She chuckled in her trademark way. I'd heard it often enough at our weekly meetings when we discussed the goings-on in Crane's View.
"What do I look like now? Well, like I did this morning, in case you forget.
Byyyye!"
Gus Gould thought that was _the _funniest thing and again his annoying heehaw laugh broke out of the corral. I'd forgotten he could hear both sides of our conversation. "I'll point her out to you, Fran."
Page 59
"Yeah, great, thanks. Where is this Cafe Sperl, Squirrel, whatever?"
"Right near our hotel." Gus gestured for us to follow him and strode away.
I looked at the kid. "Our hotel? What hotel? I have no idea what the hell is going on here. What's wrong with this picture?" I started walking.
"It didn't have to be like this. It's your fault! If you hadn't been so stupid and hit Astopel--"
"Change the channel willya, sonny? You already said that nineteen times. If you're expecting an apology you're not getting it. Anyway, you still haven't said what _you're _doing here."
"I don't know. One moment I'm living my own life, minding my own fucking business, then _whoomp, _I'm in yours, and now I'm here."
"I don't believe this. Plus if we're so far in the future, how come things don't look different?"
Which was true. If I was now somewhere between seventy and eighty years old, at least three decades had passed. But from what little I'd seen of the surroundings, the world hadn't changed much. Stores were stores and cars rolled by on streets, not in the air a la _Back to the Future.
_Most of them looked sleeker and more aerodynamic, but they were still cars.
Junior interrupted my thoughts. "It was the same for me. When 1 got to your time I thought what's so different? Same kind of clothes, a TV's still a TV--"
"Who sent you up to my time?"
He shot me a quick, sneaky glance and looked away real fast. Then he started walking away at a frightfully _brisk _pace. The little fucker was trying to make a fast getaway. Hobbling after him, I managed to catch up and touched his shoulder. He shook me off.
"Astopel! It was Astopel, wasn't it?" I must have said the magic word because he moved away so fast that if he had been a car his tires would have laid down a patch of rubber thirty feet long.
Watching him and Gus Gould go, the truth suddenly dawned on me. "Because you hit him too!
You hit Astopel too, _didn't you?"_
The boy didn't answer, but I knew I'd hit the bull's-eye. _That's _why the boy had been so worried about how I'd react to the black guy when I first met him. And that's why he'd started hollering when I knocked Astopel down.
Because he knew what was going to happen! Because he'd done _exactly the same thing _and
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